Memorise
by Buzzybee07
Summary: Married life has been stiff, but will it always be that way? Someone will come to Christine's aid. But who?
1. Chapter 1

It was another night, the phantom smiled at his prize. A bearded mid aged man hung stilly with a long rope around his neck. And what a perfect place to place him, as no one saw him it was the middle of the night as The phantom made his victims home the town squares fountain. Teasingly the Phantom ghost gave the man a nudge making the body rotate like an embellished ornament, he thought marvelously as unlucky someone would find his prize so well displayed in the marble carved fountain.

With that he left no trace he had been there and crept into a dark ally way cloaking his body fully making sure no appearance showed. Foully he felt stained in the inside, killing didn't prove much and certainly he had sworn on his life no more human's life should shed. This was an exception, as this man was a gypsy attracting customers for the money. The show was simple, a display of anything irregular person or beast would be tortured for enjoyment of the crowed. The phantom had tried to save a small girl with a deformity in the arms, damn hell that bastard he whipped her like a play thing. Her cries of pain sent roaring laughter to rumble around in peoples hateful soul, The phantom stood in the shadows knowing what would come to and end. Hell how she wiggled those arms of hers around trying to fend off the bite of the whip, The phantom cringed it was he whom also had a life like that. Thus where his ashen white mask had come in. Anyone would shout and panic of the wretchedness of the deep tender tissue around the phantoms face. Except, there was always an angel to save him. but hell he was now, waking up each night to the sound of the everlasting whip.

Chrissssstine... he hissed softly. His angel, fallen into an arms of a viper.

He finally edged his home, the Opera popilure now abandoned with the deep scars of fire. It had been almost a year since the fire brining to an end to half of his life. The Opera was his soul but his music laid in the heart of an angel. Still music came to him each night, and each night he would let a tear fall.

He knew that somehow his fallen angel would come back to his arms.

She sat while stroking a small animal in her arms, a cat donned white with a small red collar around it's neck. It mewed softly as christine sighed very unhappily. The life at the De-changy estate was very plain, boring and the house was to big for comfort. Even though it was dawn and the sun was peeking out over the mountain side showing it's early face making a great sunrise christine felt dull. It was just another day, she sat eagerly waiting for her husband. He had told her that he had very great news indeed, but nothing seemed to bright up another day if lounging around in unbearable luxury! The siting room of the house was as large as the opera houses stage! meanwhile ladies waited on Christine's every move, they sure she wouldn't even lift a finger. As simple as getting retired for the night, two maids would stand solemnly still waiting for their grand mistress to enter her bedchamber. Then they would attack her head pulling away pins and such which took forever to do in the day, and then fitting her with unbearable night gown. Roul would taunt her saying she was not used to getting pampered on, stage life was very hard and all but being to paid attention made her feel ruthless. For once she wanted to escape.

He had promised her on the Opera house's balcony that she could go anywhere with him, yes it's true he would take her much anywhere. But she couldn't go anywhere without properly being fit for the outing, all the waiting ladies would scowl saying to much sun was not fit for a true mistress of the house! in the result they would apply a very heavy white coating on her face which was lead based giving off horrible fumes which made her quite dizzy. The corset was very costly too making her very short of breath.

Christine feeling very uproariously angry hadn't noticed what a face she was making. Until the white tabby who felt very displeased clawed at the hot faced woman making her come to her senses. The small white cat walked away freely tail high up in the air, christine shook off all the thoughts and got up to see if she could take a short walk. Perhaps even alone. But as soon as she got up from her siting spot her husband short of breath ran into the room. Bewildered christine sat down and straightened out her long skirts, her husband who at-least was the bearer of some good news. when the color finally regained in his cheeks he finally excited announced his news "Christine, the Opera populair is going to be once again rebuilt with further adue." He exclaimed. Before she could say how excited he was he merely chuckled "And no more phantom, christine. The phantom is no longer living there!" He must of seen the look on Christine's face as her smile faded away. She missed him that loving creature whom endured such a hate filled life, the phantom of the opera. Her throat tensed up right away, the though of the phantom lying dead with his mask astray made her shiver. What if he was gone?

she sputtered and gripped her hand hard on the sofa's side, "Y-yes thats great, but what happened?" she very well wanted to know and almost slapped her husband straight in the face when he smiled saying "He very well possibly hung himself, for all that I know." Her eyes narrowed, Roul could notice it so her softly let one of his gloved hands stroked Christine's ashen cheek. "Maids, you are dismissed." He said very boldly as christine with open eyes saw each one bob a curtsey and walk at the room. Roul set down his packages of scripts and things on a small table then took off his heavy coat a flung it onto the couch. Christine watched his every move as he took his seat right next to her, he purred softly "how would it be to once again visit the Opera house? we can even sit in box 5. Lets say we can really see if the phantom is gone." Again she felt a spark of anger ignited in her as her eyes flickered open with a snap, "or not," he said with the same sly tone and kissed her softly. Oh how that felt good, but also it filled her up with a longing of the stage life. She felt so damned leaving that night, the night when the phantom was gone. His mask white as it has always been appeared in her mind it wavered around as his voice softly melted into her

'Chhrriissssssstine'

"My little lottie, you will always be" She heard her husbands voice elope into her mind making she stare back blankly at him, noticing he had ended the kiss. He smiled then once again stroked her cheek as if in a envious way, as to say she was his. "Now," he said very cooly with abruption "How about I'll ready a carriage and you can spend time with your Opera friends. Mrs Giny and that blonde haired girl..?"

"Meg" Christine said.

"Ah yes, and Meg. I heard they have found a small cottage, I think they are very well wanting to see you." Right away she felt new life don on her burden of a boring day, she hadn't seen Her friend in almost a year. And what a painful year that had been! without another word her husband topped her off with a kiss on the lips and then strode out of the room barking orders to anyone. This would be a good day after all.

Always her day had to be properly prepared, the tugging on her corset almost made her faint over with lack of breath. But alas she was okay and finally descended down the stairs in a rather large day dress even with small ruffles at the end of the sleeves. Her husband had such a big smile when she arrived down the stairs when almost she tripped on her trimmings. He laughed very heartily as he took her arm, "My dear you will kill yourself one day by doing that" Christine brushed off his absurd comment and right away asked if she could instead ride on horse back instead. Taking no further actions Roul gave orders of His fine horse to be brought. He smiled and gave Christine a feathery light kiss on the cheek and handed off a small yellow rose to tuck behind her ear. "Now you may go, I have much work to do today my darling. I hope you have a wonderful day." Christine let off a small gag as her corset was very tight still, she simply smiled as she saw a frown on her husband's face, but was briskly escorted to her horse. It was pure bred horse, very fine indeed. A ebony coat which would make any owner proud, it's coat was so black it looked like blood which sent a tingling sensation up her spine. But of course how much she wanted to get rid of the constant amount of waiting on every hand and foot she had to have a companion at all times. christine smirked, Roul didn't want his pride to be wisked away into the brothels, now didn't he? Christine hated it, woman where treated like something meant just for the bed only. A man could have one woman one day and then discard her for another is she wasn't to his liking. Hell, how Christine wanted to roam free. And what a bliss it was when she and meg would dress up as boys and sneak out very late to be found out and scolded deeply by Mrs. Giny. but now times had changed, and if Roul had known as simple tricks as those he would post guards outside the doors of His and Christine's sleeping quarters.

It was finally around noon when everything was in place, Christine dearly protested as one of Roul's stableman tried to hoist her up onto her horse, but finally gave in when very ravished with furry she caused a slight rip in her dress which would send her bickering maids in waiting into a brawl. It was then fed up with patience she almost exploded when her companion reminded her it was not "Ladylike" to sit normal on a horse that she would have to rise sidesaddle. It was a slow process, but when finally they made it through the gates of the De-Changy estate her mind nimble with frustration stirred up with a plan. Trying to act like she saw her husband fall down with pain she shouted with disbelief throwing her hand up to her face "Oui, oui! dear Monsieur my husband is in great pain! he took a fall over there!"

Dearly she thanked everything for her life full of stage and acting. The stableman's face was in shock as he hastily told Christine to clam down, Christine over dramatically grasped the man's hand "Monsieur, Monsieur! go! go! I said go and make sure he is alright, I beg of you!" Galloping off Christine tried to stifle a grin, as her plan was to perfect. As soon as she heard shouts of "Monsieur!" and "Vicomete!" Christine soon enough tore off down the rode in the opposite way, Proper or not. She needed to be free.

She giggled once more "Yes I did Meg!" her voice rose with the hint of happiness. The two friends had dearly embraced each other in a hearty welcome, and Christine had told her friend very fondly of her plan sending them giggling as if they where young again. Meg returned a smile "Mama would be proud" She said very teasingly, Christine grinned this was a very great day. Meg's mother had been out on a batch of errands which was a major disappointment to Christine who had very well dying to see her old friend who was like a mother to her. Instead she had made herself equally at home with her friend Meg, an also talented singer back at the Opera house. Right away she had fallen true at heart with Meg's new home, a lovely small house which was at the perfect comfort level for her. It was very cozy and brought much warmth to her heart when she found herself sometimes mindlessly skimming over collections of things, odd and ends from the Opera house. Meg, she had found out after telling her of limited life at the De-changy estate. To any normal eyes, The De-changy estate seemed like a palace of imagination. it burned her that Meg was so entranced with the stories of her dull witted life from the Estate that she stopped telling her only to find Herself and her friend back confined to stories of the Opera house. Meg also savored the stories and had a passion to go back, who wouldn't?

It was now near evening, well just the right time anyone like her should be returning back home. After biding a very long goodbye to her old friend also sealing a promise that the two would be up on the stage once more she walked out into the cold lit sky. It was mashed into a bright scarlet color of purple making the whole area light up with a condensed type of feeling. Finally when she thought she was going to freeze to the ground she felt a strung of nervousness hit her, surely there was a escort to come. And damn hell the dress was so tight it made her breath shallow. She wouldn't really mind going alone, yet put on the show she had tricked the man into that same day. Shouldn't the stableman tell Raoul of her silly foul play? he wouldn't mind a bit, calling up more riding companions was a simple task. The young woman's body felt helplessly locked in place her breath was very soft and it came rarely, the corset was killing her! the cold bit into her rabidly as she screamed out in mercy only to hear herself horsely croak. She didn't feel the single snow flake drift upon her ashen cheek, she was much to numb already. And thats how she was found, almost frozen with a mouth open a-gape.

"come to me angel of music..."

"come to me angel of music..."

A voice rolled over her body, she was dazed and quite uncertain where her body was lying.

"Angel..." The voice said again louder but very whimsically. Christine felt a strange presence around her, a dream was turning real. And yet it was when she felt the familiar black leather hand stroke her cheek her eyes opened and glazed over. "My angel" the voice said whom belonged to face she wanted most to see, The long lost Phantom of the Opera. Noticing her corset was very now lose she could sit up very well, she noticed that for once her faded white cheeks had a spot of color in them.

"You, The phantom. You have returned to me." She said breaking out in her musical voice which thrived in her mouth, oh how that felt good. She noticed her body was confined to the small same bed she had first spent the night here, but now it was not just a vivid memory. The pillows where of pure silk, the bed was a fine small carved boat. Just like it was a year ago. Her mind spun, "How is this just a dream? people speak that you have left here. You whom had flown away from your underground lair. But I see it it's not true. People say the catacombs where crushed, leaving you dead." She sung with power, it seemed to bring a small smile on the phantom's masked face.

"Do you believe those foolish lies? don't you see I am here in... your eyes." he said softly in his seductive tone. Roal could never capture her heart so easily, she wondered why she had been excited to marry him. "What has happened my good friend, can you tell me your tale?" The phantom now closer then she had imagined sat very close to her that she felt warmth spread everywhere into her tainted body.

"My dear Christine, I shall tell you. But later, for your body needs some rest." he said now normally, but whatever he did their was music in his voice. She was now again in the underground catacombs, the illuminate light from the candles flickered off her causing many shadows to appear. Her chest heaved up in the sigh, so she was free once more. But now a prisoner to the phantom? The phantom then took off his cape and draped it over on a chair, she noticed that the phantoms back tensed up as his fingers rolled over his mask. But then her relaxed to face her, "My dear fallen angel, you are free to go back to that viper again, for you are wedded to that man" He said very quietly trying to not show astiring of awaited anger. Christine didn't know what to say, she was with the phantom and he was allowing her to go? but he had saved her. He then casually walked over, his shirt in a V revealing his well built body. "I shall stay here, once more. Tell me Monsieur, is it daybreak or still the night?" The phantom smiled and pulled closer to her body, then without warning he took her left hand and stroked his gloved finger over her wedding ring. "Oh but madame you should go, back to that bed of that man." Her eyes stung, no, she wouldn't go.

"Dear my phantom, I will not go...I need to stay longer..." Christine had a begging voice also reflected with guilt, Roaul would be deathly worried about were christine had gone to. "I see you are worried, are you nought? disguised so well and trickery I had told the Vicomte that you where staying at an Inn. Do not fret or frown some more, I disguised as a mere stableboy which was far to enjoyable." The young woman gave a quick gasp he knew she would be coming back, this phantom was a genius of the night. "It is well past the black of night, resssst my angel trailed by the cold is not helping." Christine had entirely forgot about passing out in the cold, that man in the porcelain mask had saved her.

"how good to see you again,"

"But I didn't lose you"

"Night has come again, time to spread your wings..."

"Because the music...will take flight,"

"Once more, THE MUSIC OF THE NIGHT!"

Christine felt a lacy sigh go about the room after The phantom breathed his last note. emotions, love filled her soul it was the night which came to her. She stared at him, she felt her face flush of color as a small smile hit his mouth. "my angel has come back, from the depths she once had come. my dear...the music...the music of your night." He breathed while running his fingers over the ark of her bed she laid upon. Seeing his gloved hands made her lips part slightly as she began to breath faster. "my dear.." the masked man said and then coming a bit closer, as all his approaches started off lingering. He sat next to the woman with molasses curls, her lips where ruby red compared to her ivory face. Slowly he took out a black gloved hand and swept it across her cheek like what he had done earlier. But then with determination he leaned in to her face and with pleasure brushed his lips on hers making her eyes flutter shut.

flushed with anger Raoul paced nervously back and fourth pulling out a pocket watch to glance at the time. "My dear Monsieur, please." a man's voice came back in a pleading way. The vicomete stopped to look at the man with a large lump on his head. The man winced as a woman put some cooling salve on top of the wound. Raoul smiled but his lip twitched "So, you say someone hit you on the head? who? no one shall mess around here!" bellowing outwards, he noticed the room was quite empty except some maids fussing around with some bed sheets. Raoul calmly turned to the man, the stableman who was in charge of Christine's departure. As woman who was tending to the man's over sized bump gave a smile of nervousness when Raoul carelessly dismissed everyone including her. "Tell me, whoever hit you. What did he look like?" he had deep anger in his voice, his long locks of golden hair covered his face. The man shuddered slightly as he managed to hobble upwards off a small sitting coach. Raoul had eagerly came to the living quarters of the maids, and other service inquires to find the stableman whom had received a blow to the head. Christine had not returned last night, it was odd she was not home. So at the early light of dawn Raoul hunted down the stableman to question him while he dispatched searchers for his lost wife. What he didn't know, what company she was having.

"Why..why did she go," Raoul's voice was begging as he whispered gruffly to himself. The stableman swallowed hard "The problem, my good monsieur is that- I didn't see what hit me." slowly the mans died off when he saw the vicomete's hands curl tightly into hard fists. "No sir, say no more," Raoul said softly as he dashed past the timid stableman who gave a face of confusion.

"awake my angel, as you see."

"Yet another day of misery?

"The daylight has come,"

"open your eye to see,"

"This place is only for the music of the night."

As Christine awoke she didn't see any trace of the phantom, "I hear voice, come to me." Chrsitine said trying to rub off the sleep which still crawled in her. As she spoke a man in a white mask pulled back the fimalair black lace curtain. She smiled but her returned with a gravely nod, "Tis daytime like I spoke, I shall lead you home now. Quickly and caring I dare go since it daylight." Chrstine had compleatly forgot about Raoul


	2. Night's remedies

Confined in his solitary work room he found his fingers interlacing with his long hair. He mumbled something then spat, damn something was not right. Not from how he had thrown books and worthless pieces of paper onto the floor or how he found his company was a large bottle of rum. He ruthlessly unbuttoned his coat and tossed it across the room, the stableman whom had told him that Christine was staying in an local inn was lies. What frustrated the Vicomete most that the other ushers, stablemen, maids and cooks didn't recall a new stableman in the horses attire.

Hell! nimbly taking in the figure cloaked over in black made him in a mood of disgust. The stableman leaned against the wall talking softly while obscuring his face facing downwards, Raoul had indeed paid no attention to that certain man and was just relieved about the news of Christine was in a safe housing.

In furry The vicomete sat up, he had recently dispatched riders to search through all the inns in the town, but they had all returned empty handed. Swatting at the exhausted riders if they where gnats Roual shut himself in a small office to try to escape the plaguing face of the so called "phantom of the opera."

It was her choice, so why did she choose a man whose eye's where a pull towards trickery? looks can be deceiving but also full of someone's life. Staring into the phantoms she got lost in en-lightment but his eyes danced with a past which was let alone a nightmare. Rouals was a quick witted type, his eyes could be blank hiding it's true feelings of pure hate. But always Christine could tell somehow that he was tortured from the thought of that man in the mask.

Her eyes where iced over with memories, everything seemed like a recurring dream. She was just waiting for the nightmare which always came. Nothing seemed right as she held onto a smooth black glove as she was being pulled by a lure. Daytime was a discarded idea, traveling in the open with the phantom was no option. It was the exception of night which was a welcoming.

Night, time to leave. After the church's bell had dimly struck the phantom took Christine by the hand to lead her back to the home without a stir of music. Christine was a open book, her pages creased with a story of compassion. It was how she felt as she arose onto the charred balcony of the opera house when her breath simmered in her throat.

The night was always a cover of relief, the soft tickle of the wind accompanied by a blanket of stars. But touch of the chilled air bit at raw flesh. Christine would not know, warmth from the Opera ghost encircled her body. A snowflake drifted upon Christine's parted lips, it sat stilled as she breathed slowly, the phantom released her but then draped a part of his cloak around her body.

_"Tell me, what do you see?" _he asked calmly tucking a fallen strand of hair behind her ear.

"I see no ghost staring back at me. But I see a heart of a man." the young ashen face woman

said leaving her fingers to wander around the startled phantom's face. she stroked his cheek and wryly smiled as she felt his breath stiffen when her fingers traced around the frame of his mask.

"Show no fear, show your face."

"Time to feel the real embrace."

This time without pushing the woman away, the phantom breathed in her voice as she lifted the mask from his face. He ignored the bites of air battering against his tender deformity, and held his tounge as he felt her fingers explore the new skin.

"You our no monster to me, I am the one who is the monster."

Suddenly coming softly he felt her lips meet the tissue of his face. It was the whole night was changed, it was a whole new fable to the tale of the night. Just as the flakes of snow came from the skies above to cover up traces of the old lives, mistakes and unseen lies. This was now a new path being laid out for new chances.


	3. Just a puppet

Christine stood back a few paces back watching a man huddle before her. All of a sudden she saw his back shake hoarsely tensing up then shaking again, she placed her hand upon the mans warm back. He stopped, but curled his cloak tight around his body and growled for his mask.

Sliding the delicate object she held in her hands placed it into his outstretched hand, but instead of accepting it he grasped her hand and twirled her around to face him. Expecting a face of rage, she opened her eyes meekly to stare back at a masked face. No anger, his eyes seemed delicate and inflamed from..crying?

Though he tried to hide it she could feel the man shudder from her touch. With a slight raspy voice he curtly replied, "A thoughts of a nightmare donned, why are you not frightened of me?" Christine started at him as snowflakes nestled against them both. "If I was with fright, I wouldn't be hear with my angel, the angel of the night."

He turned away quickly as to reject her ideas, "Pity, why would you care for a man whom was a freak on display?" she saw a direct shadow hit his face as his shoulders rolled. She didn't say anything, just the soft sounds of snow whistled through the air.

Torches of all sizes swirled around like fireflies in the night sky. The horrid faces of anger was a buzz as woman, men and children bared a weapon of some sort singing up tunes of hate.

"Kill the masked man see what he has done?"

"Made us flee made us run."

"Draw your weapons to the sky!"

"All to the phantom you shall die!"

A roll of chants ended the song while people smirked giving out shouts of anger. Until everything became a blur of rage as a soft mocking voice poured out onto the night sky.

"Kill him,"

"kill him!"

"KILL"

"Kill the mad man!"

"Kill.."

Almost screaming out the phantoms name for dear sake Christine awoke abruptly beads if sweat dripping from her perplexed face. Her face matched the color of the coverlet that surrounded her body, while her eyes where wide slowly dying down to normal size. Strangely it was quiet, but yet she was in her normal bed. The bed of the vicomete.

Softly someone spoke her name sharply, but trying to not scare her. Raoul stood looking at her, his shirt was loosely open and his hair tasseled about. He eyed her and figured the fringe of the coverlet. Strange enough he scrapped together a fatigued smile. "My flower, I'm so glad your here. Home, not wondering like a lost lamb." Christine stayed quiet as the Vicomete gave her a wandering kiss on her cheek, only she stared back if there was a deep troubled drought through out her body.

"Surely you found some company?"

"Yes,"

"With whom?"

Christine knew Raoul was smart, a simple trick would not outwit him. She laced her fingers with the sheets trying to obscure a nervous smile.

"An elderly woman, S-she was quite nice. She took me under her wing, it was far to cold. And my horse-

"Ah, but didn't you have a riding company? you hadn't forgot about the stableman I sent out with you?"

"Raoul please-

she was cut off by the man whom face was distinguished with a slight bit of satisfaction.

"Poor stableman did your biding for his Lady, ending up with a blow to the head?"

puzzled feelings took over the woman as she sat feeling like a puppet, and the puppeteer taunting her.

"Why so glum? had you forgotten to bid a proper farewell to the kind old madame?"

"Let me go get you someone who can escort you. Perhaps me?" with that he yanked her out of bed sending her almost sprawling face forward if he had not tensed his grip on her. She yet out a subsided yelp as he gave her a kiss harshly on her lips. A slight taste of rum filled her mouth.

with disgust, christine stood in awe as Raoul licked his lips if he had just been treated to a delicacy.

"Raoul.." the woman said as she felt a raw fresh sensation of tears elope her cheeks.

"Forget of that, dove." he said in a swooning way making Christine sick in her stomach.

another roll of tears covered her face.

"Lets find this woman so you speak of."

"Tis no woman I speak of, it is man whom was lost long ago."


	4. blood cries

There was a darkened silence, as a feathery whisper of the phantom's words danced around in Christine's head.

Masquerade  Paper faces on parade . . .  Masquerade  Hide your face so the world will never find you . . .

Christine touched her face to catch a tear, but her eyes seemed tapered to her husband whom garnished the silence with a smile. The way he looked at her gave her a cold of repentance, the goose flesh that now rippled among her skin didn't help her in anyway. She felt immediate guilt and wished to shove away what she had said. But her husbands reaction was mild. Or so it seemed.

Her gave a grim smile, but more like a warning. Christine slowly back to the door hoping that it was a mere fight and that he still thought she was obedient. Her dress slid on the carpet making a hushed noise through-out the room.

"Are these some foolish lies you speak of?" his voice rumbled stilly, she noticed his anger was about to reach his threshold.

Just like if she was speaking to a full on stranger Christine spoke directly to the ground.

"No sir,"

"What I speak of is no lie."

her molasses colored curls tickled her chest, her eyes held a glance of worry.

The damned would be praised, for what she had done was far unthinkable.

"Suppose I know," his fingers where now reaching into his pants pocket to grab out something, but what she did not know. He seemed to like torturing a nervous soul, his face seemed far to relaxed but his voice was surely hiding some waited anger.

"What a dirty little Gypsy's toy!" he shouted and pulled out a shriveled rose, it's defined beauty was crushed, the delicate petals where torn. The vicomete which seemed half gone mad or drunk swerved a bit and ripped the rose up with vengeance. He plucked the petals off one by one and dropped them on the ground smiling.

then taking the stem he licked it then smacked his lips pleasurably and growled

"Roses have blood too."


	5. murderer at his heels

Christine stood paralyzed, her husband was mad. His anger flared through out the room, he was no longer a childhood friend.

He grabbed her throwing her onto a small sitting chair, his eyes seemed dull as they darted suspiciously around the room to make sure no one was there.

"You may think I've gone quite mad," He breathed

The woman sat there shaking her head, afraid if she didn't agree.

"You are the mad one, Christine." he said again staring at her coldly.

Was he really the same man back when she preformed? the man who had come to her aid when she stolen away? the man who once spoke of warm words and not words filled of envy? She didn't know, it was a nightmare after all.

"I didn't do anything, Raoul." She snapped showing him that she was also not in a friendly manor.

"Curses! all lies,"

"I speak the truth,"

"How can I be so sure? with all other lies you have told me."

"He wanted me to come back to you."

Raoul's face softened as Christine buried her face into her hands.

"Still I do not believe in you," he said curtly making Christine's blood stiffen.

"That damn phantom is nothing but something for display,"

still rambling on Raoul thrust a small parcel of paper in front of her.

He saw Chrsitines wide eyed expression, a blood red waxen seal was imprinted on the back of the letter.

"Oh yes, I knew where you lay, The phantom my dear wife,"

"I also plucked a single rose from behind your ear."

"One that had a black ribbon around it."

The door slammed, a woman knelt on the ground trying to restrain her cries. Christine's dress was a swamp around her as it was sprawled out out recklessly.

She ignored the constant banging of maids at the door trying to comfort her with soft spoken words. She could recall, her husband fished out any information from her. Now she was limp on the ground from wen he smacked her across the face, until she confessed the phantom's whereabouts.

He had set off, yet to try to murder the Opera ghost. As he had said it himself, grinning with pride to see Christine's face go pure white as she collapsed to the ground begging for forgiveness. He didn't restrain, he felt much pride as she saw him clean off his sword blade and ready his gun.

The phantom was indeed no fool.


	6. The weapon is love

Almost sobbing half to sleep, her voice seemed husky and lost. Perhaps the phantom was dead, lying crippled on the ground his white mask now a red one deep with blood.

Oh how she could picture her husband smiling with pride, a man lying level with his feet deep within a slumber of death.

But another side of her ached telling her that the phantom was lurking somewhere, somewhere were he couldn't be found. She knew the phantom had made home at her heart, she could feel his embrace lasting on her skin. If it was a touch of a ghost.

Fearing it was the end, the young woman braced herself murmuring bits of songs to try ease pangs of her withered soul. Someone must of heard her, this time a light polite tap rattled at the door.

"Come in," Christine croaked, she didn't care what state she was in.

A young maid stood in the door way, her face was a flat line as she seemed to be in a hurry. She was a small woman, a girl with brown hair and soft eyes but her face looked serious and she spoke fast if she had a lot to say.

"Madame, this is not a time to be siting here." The young girl barked almost startling christine.

"Have you come to fetch me on my husbands behalf?" Christine said almost crying

The maid sighed and shut the door, making sure it's locked she looked christine into the eyes.

"Everyone knows what your husband is doing, it is the matter that he ordered everyone of us to make sure you won't leave."

The maid through the package she carried onto the ground, and quickly she growled to Christine

"Get up, If we get caught doing this we will be a laughing stock for the century."

Christine ripped open the package to stare at some men's apparel, inside a note was neatly tucked. She recognized her friends writing, Meg had scrawled out a note reading:

The good times have come back to haunt us, use this well.

-Meg

Christine pulled out the men's clothes with her mouth agape. It was these clothes that brought back a bushel of memories, the days of laughter when love seemed just like a spell. She a smile to take over on her face, how she remembered sneaking out at night disguised as boys with small knifes in their pockets. When they deepened their voice, bounded their chest flat, and try to walk without a grace.

The maid tapped her foot abruptly

"Come on now! change quickly."

Christine shed her dress throwing it the side then awkwardly put on the men's garments. She couldn't remember the last time she was donned in men's clothes, she tried to stifle a small giggle from escaping as she looked at herself in the mirror.

"You look very handsome," joked the maid who was having a fair amount of trouble pinning up Christine's long hair.

She then handed Christine a cloak, "I wish only to help you Madame, as you see I am just a maid, but I know love if it was the back of my hand."

"I know it never in a Ladies manor to be what you are doing, but hell men have all the fun." The maid said and placed something cold in The woman's hands.

Christine felt her body sink as she held back a small gun, her eyes seemed bottomless.

"Only if you need it, be wise now." the maid grinned while making sure that her hair was secure, Christine's body shuddered she hadn't used a weapon before and she had no intention to use one.

The maid caught her trying to hide the gun under some pillows upon the bed. The young woman took her hands, "You need this, go save your true love."

Christine let off a sob, "No!" she whispered. The maid nodded back making Christine feel intimidated.

"Now, the phantom is tricky. Madame Giry has informed me, she sent me to you. She knows what has been going on, I am some sort of a lookout for your sake. The phantom is in danger, go now he should be stowed away at the graveyard. His catacombs I fear has already been searched, go now and save him!"

Christine stood awaiting, tears murmuring softly as the maid secured a rope around a bed post. when tight enough the maid through open the windows letting in a cascade of fresh air.

"The time is now, this rope should be easy enough to maneuver out the window and on to the ground. Before you do this Madame, lock the doors, tightly. I will pretend that you have gone ill, very ill. That you will not open the doors. Thus will cause a stir, everyone will come to your aid, it will be bare of guards down below. Already a horse is awaiting for your departure, then ride directly to the graveyard. Be fast and safe Madame, a bid you a farewell."

"Please tell me, I need to know your name."

"Margaret, Madame." The maid replied once more making sure the ropes where tight enough.

Margaret threw the rope outside the window, she bade one last farewell and hurried out the door.

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A/N: Yup I hope you are enjoying this story XD

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	7. That raw gaveyard

It startled her, fresh raw curses escaped her parted lips. She hung in the open dangling, trying to make her way down on the rope. But by groan of protest from the ropes above gave her a nerve racking feeling. She felt a tingling sensation form in her hands, they became sweat soaked, making her slid down. There her smooth hands where being cut into by the ropes strong fibers, she could even feel warm blood flowing from some new cuts. Her breath tensed as she, looked downwards. She was afraid of falling, she could picture her body fused with the snow covered ground. Her hands reached up to the sky if trying to grasp someone's hands, her husband pouting then wiping a blood covered sword upon her bosom. One mistake and her limp body would be forgotten under the vast blankets of snow to be found in the welcoming days of spring.

She shivered, blinked from the cold tears that where streaming from her eyes. She felt the solid crunch of snow below her foot. Thank goodness that she was wearing boots. A muffled cry of dismay sprang across the estate, as it was Christine's cue to leave at once.

There the mere was, a fond one of chestnut color it's ears prickled back and fourth in an ernest way as if a welcoming to Christine. The woman patted the horse on a large white splash upon it's neck, a small whinny escaped the horse as the beginnings of snow drifted from the skies above. Christine panicked, she was not skilled getting up on a horse's back. A proper Lady was always helped up by a man, she blushed to think what would people think of her if she was caught. But that came in the least of her worries, she didn't want any blood to be shed that day. Promises where always broken.

She heard a soft banging coming from the estate, as people shouted cries of "Madame!" she swore louder, then with rage she felt deeply impudent towards herself. Ceasing her absurd anger she hauled herself halfway up the horses hind-quarters and kicked the air to propel her upwards. She was out of breath, her stomach rolled a bit from the lack of air, she scoffed but then settled herself on the horses back and kicked the horse deep into the thighs sending the horse bellowing into a full on cry.

It was then she heard a faint crack, the door was broken. Now she had to run, run to beat her husband to find her true angel. The man who she loved had hounds at his heels, it was time for her to put the mutts asleep. She never felt so free, the wind whistled through her ears, it was a melody she wanted to hear came to her. A succulent sense of freedom rained upon her, no longer did she have to wait inside moving her fan like all proper wives do. No longer she had to wait for her husband to come back from business trips, while she sat tending to needlework and other boring necessities.

The horses hoofs thundered down the path, echoing off the cobble stones, trees towered over her sometimes sending off loads of fresh snow onto her face. Her hair was even springing free of their binds to intertwine with the wind, this alas was a sense of freedom no woman could forget.

It was quiet, the gravestones sat waiting like they always did. The extensive amounts of grave stones made her shudder, she saw newly ones open agape for the snow to greet them. Tersely she spoke out loud calling the name of her phantom, the only answer was a howl of a wolf. There where the hounds, where was it's leader? she drew out her dagger to hold onto for some reassurance, she could also feel the light touch of her pistol on her skin.

She was nervous, the graveyard was always this deserted but the silence was painful on her. It was then she closed her eyes and breathed in to let out a string of songs, but she didn't know her viewer was so close.

In sleep he sang to me

In dreams he came

That voice which calls to me

And speaks my name

And do I dream again?

For now I find

The phantom of the opera is there,

Inside my mind

She stopped as a chilling eruption overcame her body as someone sung back to her.

Sing once again with me

Our strange duet

My power over you

Grows stronger yet

And though you turn from me

to glance behind

The phantom of the opera is there

Inside your mind

That was all she heard, the next thing she knew she was mouth and mouth, hand and hand with the phantoms.


	8. woman as a man

A/N: Thanks for your wonderful reviews ) whoopsies and on the last chapter it is meant to be phantom's not phantoms. Oh yes if you are confused about the last bit, she is kissing the phantom. Once again thanks..and more chapters will come this way.

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She was covered, the phantom's cloak rapped around her waist like a cocoon. She smiled at him as she felt heat arise in her veins, it was a shock that the snow didn't melt. He smiled back, something flashed in his eyes the look of a man when he greeted his love. She had seen it in many people, the opera stage girls fawning over their admirers.

His mouth formed a thin line, as he pressed his hands so his temples.

"Why did you come? this is no place for you."

He was looking very oddly at her outfit, which she had forgotten about. She blushed, "I ran away, Raoul is trying to hunt you down, I came to find you. Margaret, a maid that Madame Giry knows has been looking after me, she is young but told me that you are here." The phantom nodded,

"why should you come to me? tell me has your husband done any wrong to you? Besides how can you love someone if you don't know their past our their name. Why did you come to a man that is a killer."

Christine fell silent, the phantom was mostly a stranger that she had known all her life. Her teacher to the captivating world of music, a person that she had heard all her lifetime but saw for a short time. The young woman nestled up against the phantom, who seemed very interested in her affection.

"Raoul beat me, I knew it was wrong to be with you. My heart sings though, whenever I see you, I dote upon your music but mostly it's just you. Your deformity means nothing to me. I just need you." She felt the phantom sigh underneath her if it was full of relief.

"My names Erik," He said and softly grabbed her fingers to run them along his mask. "Christine, my past life is just one that is supposed to be forgotten." he said sharply, if something pained him. Christine chuckled softly, "There you are wrong, Erik." The phantom sat up, making Christine scoot to one side she looked at him and laughed as she felt a spray of hair come tumbling out their pins.

His brows raised as now he fully studied her. A young woman, her hair tucked up to try to look shorter but only to fail. She was in grayish trousers with a vest of some-sort with ruffled cuffs, her chest was bound down and her eyes seemed darker with anticipation. But something caught his eye, he reached in her shirt to pull out something, her face turned scarlet as she giggled a bit. Erik drew out a dagger, and turned it around a few times looking at it a bit bewildered

The young woman blushed and tried to grab the dagger away, "It's er for protection," she swallowed. He looked at Christine frowning "Protection?" Christine slurred a bit noticing that her clothes where becoming a bit irritating.

"Y-yes from rapists," Christine slurred. Erik just took it and through it down into the snow. "Fear not, you don't need any dagger when I'm around."

Christine just laughed, until she was encircled by the phantom ghost.

It was then the first gunshot rang out.


	9. Hello my dear

The shot split through the isolated air making Erik grab onto Christine and deepen the kiss. Her breathed quickly in Christine's ear, his deep voice vibrated off her making a lump in her throat as he spoke quickly, "I will always be with you my angel, even if there is blood shed." Christine gave his hand a quick squeeze and looked at his face, it was tensed his eyes where wide with fright.

A figure, cloaked over in a black cape stood aways away, his eyes blood shot with a recent dose of insanity. He held a gun in his hand, shaking a bit as he sucked in his breath to only speak out with a vulgar. The phantom had wedged himself in above tree, to see the sight below. Christine sat fully covered, her appearance could not be seen. But under her cover she shook violently, she seemed restless. She could pull the trigger and end her husband's life, but her name would light up the sky as a damned woman. She could here muffled panting as Raoul's boots scrapped the snow.

He saw a figure on the bench, a fresh whiff of air filled his nose. The phantom was near, his musky execrable smell clung to his insides. The person on the bench tensed up as he came closer. The vicomete was out of breath, he swore loudly and spat into the ground. What if Mrs. Giry was lying? what an old bat she was, a crazed woman. He laughed and took a long swig of grog he held in a flask, he had happily terrified the old woman. What power a gun could hold, he loved pressing the bare nozzle up to the old woman's neck. Even though he had known her, she was such an easy target to find. He gurgled the grog, enjoying each taste on his parched lips not even caring that it was staining his white shirt.

Christine, saw her husband throwing his head back while foul smelling substance leaked from the corners of his mouth, she gasped and remained painfully still. Her long boots only poked out in the open, to let anyone know there was someone on the bench. What was Erik doing? A sharp crack of a branch twisted the silence as a long roll of mocking words filled the world around her. "Oh but phantom, I know you are there. cunning away at your bastedly deeds." as her husband's taunted her, something bit at her. She noticed she was now staring at two blood shot eyes.

A long heated growl rumbled in her ear. "Hello my dear."


	10. Sweet company

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ATTENTION: this part might be a little raw T+ more around M in this chapter

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Christine tried to hold cover her face, hiding her soft features. "It's to late!" he rumbled spraying bits of spittle upon her neck. She covered her face fully, "Do not hide from me dear, I will not hurt you." he parted her hands from her face, and barred giving her a wicked smile. Christine's stomach churned slightly as her eyes watched innocently as he traced his hand around her. Where was Erik. Laughing horsely, yes she believed to think he was drunk he threw his arms around her waist and jerked her off the bench. She fell on top of him, he was grinning his hair was astray and his breathing was fast. His eyes rolled a bit, he was hot and sweaty. The young woman's legs turned into wood, now the puppeteer had his puppet, she tried to move but with one tug of the strings she was his. She kicked with her boots trying to hit any part of him while foolishly searched through her vest trying to find the dagger.

The very damn blade was in the snow, she swore in his face letting her hair stream all about. He was certifiable below her, madness was slowly consuming his body as he laughed his face red "Just another common whore!" he shouted enjoying Christine's panicky reaction as she continued to kick at him. Then with one thrust his bellows echoed everywhere, he repulsively threw the woman away from him screeching insults that would make a sea dog sick.

"You horrible little bitch!" He grabbed at the spot Christine had fired her blow at, right in the groin. She lay still in the snow, to afraid to look the mad man in the eyes. He now prowled over her limp body to claim his prize. A sudden large black cape flourished, the phantom pounced over Christine to draw out a blade. She grimaced as Roul fell back screaming utterly colorful words.

The phantom started down at him, his stare was hard and cold. Christine had the chance to stand up as she backed away from her spot breathing hard. She whispered slightly, "No blood shall be spilled," but she feared she was wrong. The phantom peered over at the vicomete his voice came slow now, "You bastardly fool, hang me for the hell of it! KILL ME!" he shouted, oh how much Erik wanted to, to stare at the headless vicomete was a dream come true. If he did kill him, beady eyes would only stare back at him. Now more tones of fake lies, no more flowery words to woman. The man needed his head resting on a sword end, the phantom shook at him "I will not kill you."

The vcomete just laughed as his eyes lolled back and fourth in his head if brushing away a whole deal of lies. "Why should I believe you? You are only a mere Gypsy's toy." The phantom now leveled his sword at the vcometes throat, "One more word, that shall be the end of you." The phantom sneered, he could feel Raoul's chest heave slowly if the tides of sea. "I will leave you alone, yes alone. Christine will no longer be yours." bravely the man snorted but stopped as the phantom's blade nicked his throat. To the mention of christine, Erik peered over to look at the young woman who was froze with fright, she looked at him gravely.

Just one mistake in the whole game could be lost, a jab from the enemy sent the phantom buckling over. His mask was on the ground by his side, his hands sprawled out. The phantom was limp, the snow was a blanket for him. Now only a mask, no eyes stared out, was by his side. Sweet blood was also a company.


	11. Smoked gun

Her eyes over heated rolled over with the constant swells of tears. The hot liquid seemed to burn her flushed cheeks as they raced down her face and onto her neck. She held her head craning it over to phantoms face and to hold his hand, he was still warm but was fading fast. She felt sharp heavy anger sting her, like the smack of a whip. The gun in her shirt seemed heavier, as if was wanting to be used. The gun was loaded.

"How can you do this!" Christine shouted. A man was bleakly grinning but ripe with madness. He tossed his sword to the side making sure it skidded off a gravestone making an eerie clanking noise. "He is now in a better place, Christine, his life was horrible here." The woman felt a hot mesh of furry cover her body making herself shake all over, "I-i w-will kill myself! I rather be dead then be with a man like you! yes, the phantom killed. His life was horrible! he was used just for profit, like a piece of property." Raoul sat smiling but shadowed like she had spoke sins, "The only property here is you, woman." Christine let off a subsided yelp as he roughly grabbed her by the neck and shook her hard, "I said the only property is you!" he through her hard and pleasurably made a mocking appeal as her heard an echoed snap. The woman fell blankly the prickled with pain, her wrist was bent backwards.

She crawled over to Erik's side and huddled up to his body, now cold. "At least I shall die with the one I love." The man bellowed and hooted with laughter if watching some sort of comedy skit,"the new home of yours is hell!" He slapped his knee hawing and hooting as Christine cooed warm words to the phantom's body. "I may be in hell, but I will be with an angel that has lived a life harder then hell." She said and pressed her lips one last farewell over Erik's. Raoul laughed again, "I can help you go to hell," he said very calmly reaching over to his tossed sword. She closed her eyes, tightly as a long narrow breath escaped her.

Was it her last? her long embrace hung onto the tortured phantom as she drummed in her love deep. It was then a long arm slid up her shirt, the cold remorse of a gun to shape in her wandering hand. She pulled it out to only see one last expression on a hated man before one peaceful bang ripped throughout the country side.

Their wandering souls lost in a deep sleep could be free. A stifled yawn in winter was stopped, a young sun now peeked out from the clouds above. A gun by the woman's side, her ever more hated companion.


	12. Stale air

A young woman slender in her white dress pursed her lips angrily as she rocked a banquet of roses eagerly in her arms. Under the roundness of her eyes were irritated with a hint of pink, her eyes flickered around as an older woman braced herself beside her.

"Mama," The younger woman spoke softly her blond hair was perfectly curled as her lips were pink and chaste. The older woman's shoulders gave in, a burden of stress hovered around in the stale air. The blond hair girl gripped her banquet tighter and spoke up

"Mama, when can we?" The elder woman shook her head staring out into a distance, her lips quivered "Meg, I do not know." The girl gave a quiet nod and then turned her head to a door. Another woman dressed in maids clothes approached her eyes were still. "What a dull night," she sneered and briskly rapped on the door's surface tapping her foot. "For god's sake! let us in," the maid barked but tears slid easily from her eyes. "Margaret, we will see what fortune she has come to. If she's gone then we will let her go to her father." Margaret sobbed "Madame Giry, don't say that. She will live!"

Madame Giry only gravely nodded while comforting the young maid. Meg didn't pay any attention she was set off into a cycle of worried thoughts, her friend would pull through. Wouldn't she? only faith could tell, Meg swallowed hard as tears came hard a flashback rummaged through her mind.

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It was far back, way far back. Christine and Meg where small girls innocently watching the dancers who carried such grace in their stride. The opera populair was fresh and flourished with happy days. It was these days Meg and Christine would look up to the performances and eagerly await for their turn to come. It did come fast, for Meg wished for the past a little more then the future.

The two young girls stood offstage watching the dancers and singers hustle about throwing on their costumes and such singing little ditties to forget about their nervousness. Then the curtain would raise and elegant dancers would flower onto the stage causing a magnificent uproar of applauds in the crowd.

Christine was so innocent, her eyes were wide with excitement her face still the same bare white color. Meg stood by her side and gave out a sigh, she was thinking about when it was her turn. "Meg, I know one day we will be up there." Christine said very quietly, she was a small child who held great hopes.

The blond girl nodded and shuffled her feet a bit and watched as a woman in a large colorful gown brush by. The whole backstage lingered with the sent of perfume and rum, everyone seemed happy. One man carrying a bushel of roses bumped into small Christine not bothering to say an apology, Christine only shrugged and picked up one of the fallen roses. She toyed with a bit, rolling the rose petals between her thumb and her fingers, then put the rest behind her ear.

Meg watched Christine in a envious way, she was so pretty with brown delicate eyes and a body of porcelain white. An even after the recent death of her father she would smile often and still be in a cheerful mood.

"Christine, I know we will be up there on stage. But we will be there together." Meg spoke with confidence getting a slight look from a performer who puffed idly on a pipe. Christine started back at her friend, then took out the rose to press in the palm of Meg's hand. "Of course we will, we will perform together." The two girls who had sealed that promise then happily hand in hand rushed off to Madame Giry.

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The memory was snapped as Meg braced herself, a figure ghostly white laid out on a small bed. A large red velvet coverlet was draped over the shivering woman as maids bathed her face in steamy hot water with lavender essence. The clanking of pewter glasses was hushed as gravely the woman gurgled a bit to choke out the name "Erik?" Meg looked confused worried, her brow deepened as she rushed to grab ahold of the woman's hand. It was cold freezing, something as cold as death. The blond haired girl shuddered revolting her touch, she had to keep a straight face.

Madame Giry's face softened, so the phantom had revealed his name. Christine coughed, her lips fluttered under her raspy breath. Margaret propped herself up against the wall, she kept shadowed if she had committed the whole thing to happen to Christine. Maids bathed her face again, turing away in despite of coughs . Christine looked mercifully happy at Meg "Erik?" she asked again. Meg wanted to shake herself to awaken from just another nightmare, but staring into some soulless eyes filled up with repugnant times it was for real. Who was Erik? just Christine's mind far off into some fantasy land? A hero in her mind, a stir of some insane illness? "Christine," Meg was so worried, she squeezed Christine's hand tighter if she could pass some of her warmth to her. The woman's face paled, her eyes fluttered flickering like moths wings as tears streamed down fast. "Tut tut, the cold outside is harmful ma'dear seems this woman got greeted by winter for sure." Some others in the room nodded in agreement as a silence hung greedily in the air.

Hopefully it wouldn't be so quiet for long.


End file.
